


The Highest Form

by stardust_made



Series: The Christmas Series [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_made/pseuds/stardust_made
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Eve with Sherlock is not quite like anything else John has experienced. Dialogue only. For the prompt "Christmas tree with popcorn".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Highest Form

**Author's Note:**

> For my fantastic beta disastrolabe. This can be read as a stand-alone, but there are a couple of references to my first Sherlock&John Christmas story "For the Shopping List You Always Lose" which I wrote last year. And also, another nod to book canon.Beta by lovely sirona_gs.

  
“I just want to say, just for the record, that this was not what I was promised to do this Christmas.”

“Since there is no one within the space of two miles but the two of us, I take it your discontent is directed at me.”

“Well done.”

“Sarcasm, John. The lowest form.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I think I’m allowed a bit of that under the circumstances. To get it off my chest.”

“Fine. Get it off your chest.”

“No, no. Don’t give me the dramatic sigh as if you’re having to deal with some…spoilt teenager who’s moaning that he didn’t get, I don’t know, the latest iPhone or something. I’m quite justified in my “discontent”.”

“If I can’t be sighing you can’t use air-quotes.”

“How did you even see me do that in here? I swear you scare me sometimes.”

“There’s nothing supernatural about my good eyesight. Which, in this case, I didn’t even have to use. I know your mannerisms. I can have my eyes shut and picture you just by listening to you.”

“Can you picture me now?”

“Yes, John, quite well. You have made your point. I am, however, none-the-wiser as to how this is my fault. I don’t recall making any promises to you about Christmas, or making any plans for it for that matter.”

“You don’t remember.”

“Nope.”

…  
…

“So what—You are just going to sulk now, without telling me why?”

“Sulk?! Ha! Sherlock, you have some balls, I give you that—”

“How nice of you.”

“The lowest form. And you’re sighing again.”

“Of course I’m sighing! This conversation doesn’t even make sense.”

“All right, I’ll tell you what I was pro—What _you_ promised me. Last year—”

“Do you honestly expect me to remember last year?”

“It was a pretty eventful year.”

“Um. Yes. Okay. It was, yes. Do you mean…”

“I mean everything. Moriarty, for one. And, you know…”

“We—The moving into Baker Street.”

“Yeah. Yes, erm. That.”

…  
…

“What did I promise you last year?”

“Do you remember Christmas last year?”

“Yes.”

“You threw away that invitation to the Scotland Yard Christmas party.”

“God, John, that is petty even by your standards. I thought you’d rememb—I thought you’d say something else, and you just—”

“I’m not saying—Of course, I remember the rest of the, um. I remember Christmas. I wasn’t having a go about that invitation, just so you know. And what do you mean petty even by my standards?”

“Oh, _God_.”

“Great. Rolling your eyes is _much_ better than huffing.”

“I’m rolling my eyes because—How did _you_ see me?”

“You’re not the only one who can close his eyes and picture the other person to the last detail.”

…  
…

“Shall I put another piece of wood in the fire?”

“Please, do. I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh, no.”

“Who’s dramatic now?”

“You can’t blame me that when you say “surprise” I don’t jump to the conclusion that it’d be something nice.”

“If I were _petty_ like some people, I’d be offended.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

…

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why can’t you imagine that a surprise from me, um, for you, could be nice?”

…

“John?”

“Hang on. I’m trying to—Okay. Well. Because your standards about what counts as a nice surprise are a bit different than those of the rest of us.”

“Hm. You might be right.”

“Thanks.”

“But I’ll have you know that I am perfectly capable of having a nice surprise for you, in the more…conventional sense of the word.”

“O-kay. Surprise me.”

“I need a bigger fire.”

“You do realize that sentence does not do your argument any favours.”

“Relax. I’m not going to cook you.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that, but relieved now.”

“Although if I was going to, this would be perfect. No one knows I’ve left London. Everyone thinks you’re in Baskerville Hall, sleeping soundly. There’s an echo in here, but it’s a small cave, so any sounds would be muffled. That’s void anyway—I wouldn’t really allow you to make any sounds. Plus—”

“Sherlock.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop that. Please.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

…  
…

“I did tell you not to come.”

“Yeah, like I was going to leave you alone in this hole on Christmas Eve.”

“It’s not technically a hole; it’s a cavity that—”

“I didn’t mean it literally, Sherlock.”

“You’re sighing now.”

“Right, okay, but I’m justified. My gesture of friendship has just been overlooked completely for the sake of…geological accuracy. By the same friend who a minute ago finished describing how he would have murdered me and eaten me, if he’d decided to go for it.”

“Well, when you put it like _that_.”

…  
…

“John. Thanks, um. Thanks. For coming over tonight.”

“No problem.”

…

“Fire’s good now. Pass me that pack over there, by the big stone.”

“What’s in it?”

“Corn.”

“Corn?”

“Yes. I only managed to get hold of it a few hours ago, from a henhouse.”

“And you are now stealing the local poultry dinner because?”

“I want to make popcorn.”

…

“Don’t gape, John.”

“I’m sorry, did you say popcorn? We are eating the most revolting stew produced since men _actually_ inhabited these caves—”

“Hmm, it’s better when it’s warm, isn’t it?”

“—but you didn’t think of stealing, oh, I don’t know—some bread and cheese, maybe? Popcorn. Are we watching a movie tonight?”

“Yes, John, right in the middle of the great Grimpen Mire there is a big 3D screen. The popcorn is for the tree.”

“The tree?”

“The Christmas tree, yes!”

“What Christmas tree? Where are you going?”

…

“This one.”

“Where on Earth did you get a Christmas tree from?”

“I nicked it.”

“You nicked it.”

“And I’m beginning to regret it, because obviously it will only bring more pointless repetitions of my words.”

“And the popcorn is for—”

“Decoration, yes.”

“Right. I see. Erm…nice.”

“Yes, I thought so, too.”

…  
…

“It’s popping. Do you think it’s safe to eat?”

“Are you asking _me_ about safety?”

“Sorry. Oh God. I’m considering eating Christmas decoration.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Pass me my rucksack.”

…

“Ah! Here we are.”

“Is that…”

“A piece of string. Yes, I have a sewing kit. I didn’t know how long I’d be here.”

“I—I—It’s actually quite sweet. That you have a sewing kit. You know, like an old lady.”

“Yes, John, I know how your mind works; I was able to follow your chain of associations.”

…

“While I’m doing this…What was it about last year? And the promise I made you, supposedly?”

“All right, it wasn’t exactly a promise. But you did say that next year we could go to one of those parties. Like Lestrade’s team’s one.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“’Course not.”

…

“Did you really want to go to it?”

“Obviously not, if I’m here with you.”

…

“I miss London. And I’m not sure they’ll tolerate my absence at work much longer. How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?”

“I don’t know. How long is a piece of string?”

…  
…  
…

“Laughter sounds eerie here.”

“That’s because I’m a baritone and you’re a…well, you sounded like a soprano just now.”

“Thanks.”

“Hold this and help me put it on the tree.”

…  
…

“It’s quite nice.”

“Hmm.”

…

“You do realize “nicking” the tree was probably criminal offence.”

“Oh, _please_!”

…

“Why did you do it—the tree and, you know.”

…

“Merry Christmas, John.”

“Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”


End file.
